His visits were spellbinding. He wore a tweed overcoat and had a pipe in his mouth. His whiskers were soft and silvery, and his breath smelled of Guinness. I loved everything about him. He carried pennies in his pocket, and, when he picked me up, I tried to burrow into the very core of him.

I almost pulled this piece before publication. But I didn’t and I’m delighted to say you can read it for free at Moria Online, the literary journal of Woodbury University (USA).

If you enjoyed reading this essay, please let me know. You can read other short pieces on my website.

Thank you for reading.

Image by Louise Allan